


Broken Glass

by RadioactiveDeLorean



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Blood and Injury, Car Accidents, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-22 04:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11960115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveDeLorean/pseuds/RadioactiveDeLorean
Summary: It wasn't supposed to go like this.He wasn't supposed to get hurt.The one time Jack decides to rent a car instead of letting Mark drive him around ends in disaster.





	1. Prologue: The accident

Jack can't breathe. The smoke fills his lungs and chokes him with every inhalation. It’s making his vision go blurry and his eyes are watering. His head falls to the ground once more, his hands over his mouth. One hand tugs the collar of his shirt up over his mouth, hoping that the thin fabric will somehow clear the air he’s breathing in. It doesn’t help at all. He can still taste the putrid smoke in the air as it gets into his lungs, into his bloodstream. He can feel it burning in every cell in his body, making his skin, muscles, organs and just  _ everything  _ feel as hot as the air around him.    
  
He feels a large, heavy weight on his legs and lower back, keeping him rooted to the ground. He couldn’t sit up even if he wanted to. He is forced to stay lying on his stomach. He feels hundreds upon hundreds of shards of glass sticking into his arms, chest and back from all angles and it’s making his clothes feel as though they’re coarse sandpaper. He’s trembling, even though the fire from the engine is making everything hot. He knows that the fuel tank must be ruptured and spilling petrol everywhere and the idea of any of it catching fire is quite frankly terrifying to him. 

Not that Jack can do anything to stop it.    
  
He hears the screech of tyres nearby and the slam of several car doors, all of which seem to happen at once. He hears footsteps rushing towards him and several voices shouting his name. From what he can tell, there are three other voices coming from one direction and two from another. His head is spinning, now, and he’s starting to get black spots dancing in the corners of his vision. He can’t tell what’s going on. All he knows is that something is rather hot.   
  
The voices get closer to him before another voice cuts in, barking at them to stay back. Speaking of barking, he can hear a dog, now, too. It sounds like a fairly big dog as the bark is rather deep. It sounds familiar to him. He feels as though he should know that dog, but his scrambled mind can’t process anything apart from the heat at the moment. Only now is he getting any sort of sensation back in his body.   
  
And then pain floods his system like venom.   
  
Jack screams. Oh boy, does he scream. He shouts and wails in blinding agony until his face must be blue and his lungs are empty and then he screams some more. Vaguely, over the sound of his own pained howls, he hears the voices from before cry out in horror. They’re shouting his name,  _ screaming  _ his name and Jack is sure that at least half of them are crying, too, judging by how broken the voices sound. Or maybe that’s just the sound of blood pounding in his ears making everything sound funny.    
  
As far as Jack can tell, he’s lying on the ground. It’s rough and cold and wet compared to the heat and weight crushing everything below his navel. He wants to be able to speak, to form actual words, but the only thing coming out of his mouth is screaming. And a strange liquid that tastes vaguely like metal. It’s making it hard for him to breathe and it clogs up his throat.  
  
Jack coughs and sprays a mouthful of the liquid all over the ground in front of him. His vision is clear enough to see that it’s red. The flames from the burning engine glisten off the small droplets, casting a warm glow over Jack’s face. He’s reminded of cold winter nights in the cabin back in Ireland. Sitting huddled up on a sofa with a mug of hot chocolate, his family surrounding him in a big huddle. They used to laugh, talk and play board games together with a log fire roaring at one end of the room. For a moment, Jack almost thinks he’s back there, surrounded by his family.   
  
But he’s not. He’s lying under a burning car on a highway in LA, choking on his own blood. 

It seems like an eternity before something other than flames, blood and asphalt register to Jack’s wavering vision. He sees blue and red lights flash off the puddles of blood and petrol on the ground. A siren breaks through the sound of the blood pounding in his ears. By this time, Jack has stopped screaming, his throat raw and dry. His lungs are aching for lack of air and he wonders how he even had the strength to scream in the first place. Now, he’s breathing as heavily as he can manage, his head spinning more and more with each passing moment. 

He hears more footsteps and several other voices shouting out various orders, before something wet and ice-cold splashes over his body. The light from the flames vanishes instantly, taking the heat with it. Jack is left lying on the ground, shivering. His teeth chatter and he has to clench them tightly to make the noise stop. The group of voices get closer until they are right above his head. He hears all sorts of loud sounds from what he can only assume are tools before the weight on his lower body is lifted off.    
  
Jack would have thought that taking the weight off would alleviate the pain in some way, but it only makes it a hundred times worse. He opens his mouth to scream again. Nothing but a few gurgles and another mouthful of blood escapes his lips. He tries to lift his head to see his saviours, but the pain is simply too much and his head falls to the ground again. He’s getting rather tired of lying on the ground like this. 

He feels hands on him, gently rolling him onto his back. He feels something pressed against his shoulders, neck and the sides of his head, preventing him from moving anywhere. Something similar gets places around his legs. He’s lifted up onto a flat, softer surface and for the first time, he can see the faces of those around him. He’s surrounded by paramedics who are all talking to each other, relaying information and instructions. One of them breaks away from the group and leaves Jack’s field of vision.    
  
There’s a slight bump before Jack is wheeled up a ramp, the inside of an ambulance covering the view of the grey clouds looming over his head. He gets placed to one side, the stretcher being locked into place so he won’t move around during transit. He sees someone step into the ambulance and sit by his side. Through the fuzzy, dark spots still dancing in the corners of his vision, Jack can vaguely make out a fluffy crop of black hair and a pair of square glasses resting on a lightly-bearded face.    
  
“M-Mark…?”

“I’m right here, Seán.” A warm hand engulfs his own cold one and squeezes gently. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”   
  
“O-okay…” Jack murmurs quietly. His throat hurts too much to speak and his head is still spinning. He can still taste a bit of blood in his mouth and coughs to get rid of it, only succeeding in spitting it across his chest.    
  
Mark makes a strange, choked, whimpering sound from his right and Jack’s eyes flicker towards him. Mark has tears running down his face and seems to be trembling. “Y-you’re gonna be alright, Seán, I promise,” He murmurs quietly, running his other hand through Jack’s blood-spotted green hair in the hope it might reduce the spinning inside his skull. 

Jack’s eyes start to flutter closed at the feeling and before he knows it, everything around him has faded to nothingness, Mark’s cries of ‘stay awake!’ and ‘no no you can’t pass out now!’ blending into silence.


	2. Pincushion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack gets taken into hospital. Things look much worse than they are.

It had all happened so fast.

One moment, Mark was happily chatting away to Ethan and Tyler from the back seat of Ethan’s car, Chica dozing on the seat beside him. Jack’s rental had been up ahead, following Bob and Wade on the way to the hotel. The next thing Mark knew, he was watching in mute horror as a truck slammed into the side of Jack’s rental, flipping it over and sending it slamming into the central reservation. He’d seen Jack be thrown through the windscreen as the car rolled over. Once the car came to a halt, Jack was nowhere to be seen.

Wade must have seen what had happened in the rearview mirror and slammed the brakes on before he and Bob had leaped out. Ethan stopped the car a few yards behind the wrecked rental and everyone had rushed out.    
  
The scene had been carnage. The rental car was totaled. The passenger’s side was completely caved in and the door had split from the sheer force of the collision. Mark had thanked his lucky stars that there hadn’t been anyone on the passenger’s side when the car was struck. The engine had caught fire, the burning oil sending dark plumes of smoke up into the evening sky. It wasn’t raining, but grey clouds hung over the area. The air was thick with the foul smell of burning fuel. The truck that had hit Jack was at the far side, over on the hard shoulder. It had sustained minimal damage, having only lost one of the front tyres and the headlights. The driver looked as though he were unconscious, slumped over the wheel in the cab. 

The group had tried to get closer, but the flames were far too hot. Jack was lucky he’d picked a BMW 700 as his rental car, as the engine was in the back and Jack had been pinned down by the front. If he’d picked something like a standard family car, he could have died. 

But when the group saw Jack, they thought he was already dead.    
  
The Irishman was completely motionless when they first spotted him amongst the carnage. Everything below his waist had been crushed beneath the car and anything that hadn’t been was shredded and bloodied by the broken glass from the shattered windows. Jack’s face was covered in cuts from his trip through the windshield and his vivid green hair was spotted with crimson droplets. 

When Jack started trying to move, they had all breathed a sigh of relief, if somewhat small. He hadn’t been able to get his head off the ground for longer than half a second without falling back down again. Chica was barking and pulling at her leash, whining as she tried to get over to Jack. Mark held her back, fearing she would run too close to the flames and get hurt. They could see a fair amount of liquid on the asphalt surrounding the car and its injured driver and at first, they’d thought it was water. With a jolt, they had realized it was a mixture of petrol and blood. 

There seemed to be a steady trickle of crimson running out from underneath the car. Mark had damn near thrown up when he realized that Jack must be bleeding heavily beneath the wreckage. They knew Jack must be in severe amounts of agony and they figured that he was too weak to make any sort of sound.   
  
They thought wrong.    
  
Jack’s screams had sounded like a tortured, dying animal. They resonated within the bones of the people nearby and Chica had whined loudly as she’d heard him wail. It was unlike anything they’d ever heard before. It was worse than something out of a horror film. Partly because of the sheer anguish in Jack’s voice, but mostly because it was real. It was  _ real  _ and happening  _ right in front of them,  _ as opposed to through a television. Worst of all, it was one of their best friends who was screaming in agony.    
  
Naturally, they had all cried out to him in response, trying to get around the flames to get to him. As they’d circled the burning wreckage, Jack’s screams had been replaced by something else. Something worse. Jack had started to cough, splattering blood all over the ground in front of him. He’d whimpered quietly as more blood spilled from his lips. It was at that moment that Mark knew at least one of Jack’s internal organs had been ruptured by the pressure of the car crushing him. He couldn’t bear to imagine what Jack’s legs must be like. If the weight of the BMW was anything to go by, there was a good chance that Jack would never walk again. The thought of Jack being paralyzed from the waist down was enough to bring tears to Mark’s eyes.    
  
Chica was clearly intelligent enough to know what was going on as she was barking and whining almost non-stop, tugging at her leash with her front paws clear off the ground. Mark had had a hard time holding her back by this point and Bob ended up helping him, the pair of them able to hold the Golden Retriever away from the fire. It doesn’t stop Chica from whimpering, however. 

It seems to take hours for the rescue crew and the paramedics to get through the half-mile-long pile-up of traffic leading back up the highway from the crash site. The rescue crew immediately set about putting the flames out, spraying Jack with cold water in the process. As soon as the fire was out, they set car jacks under the body of the rental to lift it up off the injured driver. Releasing the pressure from Jack’s body seemed to cause him more pain. Jack had looked as though he was going to scream again but only spat out more blood across the ground.    
  
As soon as the car was lifted off Jack’s body, the paramedics rushed over to help. He was turned onto his back and lifted up onto a stretcher, large braces being set around his neck and legs to keep him stable. He was wheeled past his friends and taken towards the waiting ambulance.    


One of the paramedics had broken away from the others and went over to the group of YouTubers who were waiting with baited breath. “Would any of you like to join him in the ambulance? We can only admit one passenger, however.”   
  
“I’ll go.” Mark had said immediately, leaving Chica with Bob and Wade as he followed the paramedic into the ambulance. He’d sat by Jack’s side, holding one of the Irishman’s hands in his own.

Oh God had Jack looked pale. Well, he was pale to start with, but he just looked so  _ white.  _ His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused and aside from his vivid green hair and the cuts on his face, he was as pale as the sheets he was laying on. 

Jack’s eyes had slowly turned to look at the man sitting beside him. 

_ “M-Mark…?” _

Oh God, Jack’s voice had been so  _ weak.  _ Everyone was used to hearing Jack loud, proud and full of energy. He sounded almost as if he was dying. 

_ “I’m right here, Seán.” _ Mark had replied, squeezing Jack’s hand ever so slightly. _ “I’m not going anywhere, okay?” _ _   
_

_ “O-okay…"  _ Jack had murmured weakly, his eyes already slowly slipping shut. He had coughed again and sprayed more blood across his chest. Mark had had to choke back a sob as he watched his friend spit blood, his expression full of agony. 

_ “Y-you’re gonna be alright, Seán, I promise,”  _ Mark had murmured in response. He’d hoped that running a hand through his friend’s bloodied hair would try and soothe him of some of the pain. It had worked too well, as Jack’s eyes had slipped close only moments later. 

_ “No no no!”  _ Mark had protested quietly.  _ “Stay awake!”  _ Jack’s eyes had remained stubbornly closed despite Mark’s efforts to keep him conscious.  _ “No no you can’t pass out now!” _

As the ambulance had rushed towards the hospital, Mark had begged and pleaded for Jack to wake up, for him to open his eyes, but nothing had been able to rouse him from his sleep. 

That had been hours ago, and now Mark is sitting in a nearly-empty hospital waiting room, his elbows on his knees and his eyes fixed on a spot on the floor in front of him. He doesn’t seem to blink or move as people come in and out past him. Once or twice, he hears a quiet “are you Markiplier?” before they quickly realize that something is wrong and that Mark should be left alone. 

He sits there for hours and hours after Jack is brought into the operating theatre, his mind buzzing with all sorts of horrible scenarios. What if Jack gets paralyzed? What if both of his legs have to be amputated? What if he dies?

Mark shakes his head furiously to clear the thoughts away, but only succeeds in making himself dizzy. He goes back to staring at the floor again as the thoughts continue to circle through his mind. At some point during his nightmarish reverie, Ethan and Tyler enter the waiting room, immediately spotting the half-Korean's messy crop of black hair amongst the pale surroundings of the room. They slowly go over and sit with him. Ethan sits on Mark’s right with Tyler beside him. Ethan asks quietly if he’s heard any more about Jack, and Mark merely shakes his head. 

It takes another few hours after Ethan’ and Tyler’s arrival before a nurse finally comes out into the waiting room. “Is anyone here for Seán McLoughlin?”

A few heads turn to look at the nurse, and Mark hears a couple of whispers of ‘isn’t that Jacksepticeye’s name?’ as he, Tyler and Ethan stand up. “We are,” Mark says.    
  
The nurse gestures for them to follow her. They quickly go with her, walking down the halls of the hospital. She has a clipboard underneath one arm. After taking a trip up a flight of stairs and down another hall, she guides them through a set of double-doors and into a ward, stopping at the first door on the left. She turns to look at them and holds up the clipboard. “Mr. McLoughlin has suffered severe fractures to both of his legs, along with bruising to his pelvis and hips. His lowest rib had cracked and punctured his small intestine, causing him to cough up blood. He had to have a section of his small intestine removed and has eighteen stitches across his abdomen. Both of his legs have been set with metal plates and rods around the bones to hold them in place while he heals. External braces have been fitted to aid the healing process. He will be bedridden for four to six weeks as his legs heal, after which he will require a walking frame to reduce the pressure on his legs.”   
  
“How long will the plates be in for?” Ethan asks quietly, Mark too stunned to talk.    
  
“The plates and rods will be left in permanently, but the external fixtures will be removed once he is strong enough to get out of bed.” The nurse explains. “Unless of course, the plates become a problem, at which point they will be removed.”

“He’ll be able to walk again, though, right?” Mark asks, trying to hide the terrified shake in his voice. 

“Theoretically, yes, although he may require crutches or a stick to help him.” The nurse says. “However…”   
  
The three men seem to pale. “However… what?” Tyler prompts.

“When the car went over, Mr. McLoughlin was thrown from the windshield and his face was subsequently cut from the broken glass. The cuts were rather deep and it’s highly likely that he will be left with permanent scarring to his face, neck, and arms.”

Mark feels his stomach drop. “He’s going to have scars?”

“I’m afraid so, yes,” the nurse informs him. She stepped away from the door. “You may visit him, though be careful not to jostle him in any way. And only one of you will be able to stay with him overnight.”

The trio nod and slowly enter the room. As soon as Mark’s eyes land on Jack, he feels his legs go weak. He manages to stay on his feet as he goes and sits down in one of the chairs by the side of Jack’s bed. Tyler sits beside him and Ethan sits on the other side of the bed on the windowsill. Jack is the only one in the room, despite the other bed. None of the men say anything, taking in the sight of their injured friend.    
  
Jack looks even paler than he was lying in the road. His eyes are closed and there’s an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. The plastic case fogs up a little every time Jack exhales. His chest rises and falls steadily. Lots of small, thin wires run out from underneath the blankets and into a monitor standing by the side of the bed. A green ECG runs across the screen and Jack’s pulse, oxygen saturation, intracranial pressure and blood pressure are all shown. Jack’s pulse is currently a steady 68bpm. His face is covered in small squares of gauze attached with medical tape. There is one over his left eye, both cheeks, his chin and the right side of his forehead. A few tufts of green hair poke out from amongst some bandaging wrapped around his head. An IV of clear liquid hangs from a stand by Jack’s left, the tube running down and into his arm via a cannula. His arms are covered in the same squares of gauze as his face.

His legs are the worst. There’s a metal frame at the end of the bed which is holding up both of Jack’s legs. They’re encased in thick bandaging and have metal cages surrounding them from just below Jack’s hips all the way to his feet. Pins and rods poke through the bandaging to his leg. He looks like a pincushion. His legs are suspended about half a foot up and are kept apart. Mark is at least relieved to see that the bandaging stops at Jack’s hips. He knows it will be much easier for the nurses to help Jack with relieving himself if the bandages don’t cover that area. A thin, pale blue hospital gown covers Jack’s body from his shoulders down to his hips. 

Nobody says anything for a while. They sit there in silence, gazing at their injured friend as if doing so might heal his injuries. Mark gets up halfway through the third hour to find the bathrooms. Tyler simply stares at the bed while Ethan runs his thumb over Jack’s hand gently. Jack’s hand is cold and still. When Mark returns, he goes back to holding Jack’s hand again. 

Eventually, Ethan is the one to break the silence that has been crushing them for hours. “Who’s going to stay overnight to watch him?”

“I will,” Mark responds almost immediately. “Can you guys look after Chica for me?”

“Mark, you need sleep,” Tyler says softly. “You’re almost as pale as Jack is.”   
  
“Tyler,  _ please,  _ I want to stay and make sure he’s alright,” Mark insists. “I’ll come home tomorrow, but I just need to stay here tonight, okay?”

Tyler lets out a small sigh and nods. “Alright. But first thing tomorrow, I’m coming to pick you up and you’re getting some sleep, okay?”

Mark nods slowly, his gaze once again fixed on his unconscious friend. Tyler and Ethan get up from their seats, bid Mark goodnight and head out. Mark sits there for hours more, staring at Jack’s chest as it rises and falls slowly, begging his friend to wake up. 

“Seán, please, you gotta wake up…” Mark murmurs into thin air. He knows that Jack’s morphine will keep him under a while longer, but a man can dream, right? He holds Jack’s hand in both of his own, squeezing it gently. His heart sinks when Jack doesn’t squeeze back.    
  
Sighing quietly to himself, Mark folds his arms on the bed and lays his head down, despite the awkward position it puts his body into. He’s determined not to leave Jack’s side until he wakes up; he just doesn’t know how long that will take. Eventually, the rhythmic sound of Jack’s heart monitor, along with the steady hum of hospital equipment around him, lulls Mark to sleep. His eyes drift shut and his whole body relaxes. One last thought drifts through his mind before he fades completely.    
  
_ Please, Jack, wake up before I do. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Researching how to fix broken legs is fun


	3. Consciousness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack finally wakes up after what seems like years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, sorry for the delay in a new chapter. I've had this half-finished since the second one came out but D: writer's block is an s.o.b.

Mark is woken up by a hand on his shoulder the next morning. The owner of the hand is shaking Mark's shoulder gently, trying to rouse him from his sleep. Mark groans and tries to roll over, but ends up on the floor. That's right, he'd fallen asleep in a chair next to Jack's bed.

_ Wait, Jack! _

Mark sits upright and looks at his friend with wide eyes, hope blossoming in his chest. It dies as soon as it is created when he sees that Jack is still out cold. His chest rises and falls steadily and the oxygen mask fogs up with every fall. The heart monitor continues to beep steadily. Jack looks the same as he had done yesterday, other than the fact he now has a fresh morphine IV. He still looks deathly pale. 

A quiet sigh escapes Mark’s lips as he sinks into his chair again, staring at the IV running into Jack’s arm. The hand on his shoulder shakes again and a voice breaks through into Mark’s ears.    
  
“Mark?” It’s Tyler. “Come on, the nurses said Seán wouldn’t wake up for another couple of days, so there’s no point in staying here.”

“But what if he wakes up before then?” Mark asks quietly. “What if he wakes up and there’s nobody in here to help him?”

“The nurses check on him regularly,” Tyler replies. “Come on, you need something to eat and a shower.”   
  
“I can get food here,” Mark says, glancing back at his unconscious companion. “There’s a Burger King downstairs.”   
  
“You’re not living off junk food,” says Tyler. “Come on, Chica’s miserable at home. She misses you.”   
  
Mark is a little more convinced to come home once his beloved dog is mentioned. Slowly, he gets up from his chair, murmurs a soft ‘see ya later’ to Jack and follows Tyler out of the room. He stuffs his hands into his pockets as he walks down the hall towards the elevators.    
  
“Wade said he’d come over later to check on Jack,” Tyler says as they stand at the elevators, waiting for one to arrive. “Ethan’s at home with Chica and Bob is giving statements to the police since he was driving just in front of Jack when the car was hit.”

Mark nods slowly. “Has there been any word about the driver of the truck?”

“Not yet. Mind you, it was only yesterday that the crash happened. I doubt the police have done much yet.”   
  
“Right…” Mark jumps a little when the elevator doors slide open and a handful of people exit. Mark and Tyler stand in one corner, between the wall and a woman in a wheelchair. Mark can’t help the way his stomach churns as he realises Jack may end up needing a wheelchair if his legs don’t heal completely. 

Tyler notices his concern and puts a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “Seán will be fine, Mark,” he whispers into the half-Korean’s ear. “When has he ever given up when he’s been sick or hurt?”

“Never,” Mark murmurs. 

“Exactly, and this ain’t gonna hold him down either.” Tyler pats Mark’s shoulder, smiling reassuringly. “He’ll be alright, Mark.”   
  
Mark sighs quietly and nods. “I sure as hell hope so, Tyler.”

Tyler gives him the most reassuring smile he can manage as the elevator slides to a stop on the ground floor and the majority of the passengers step out. Mark follows Tyler out through the main entrance to the hospital and over to the parking lot. Tyler unlocks his car and the pair climb in. 

On the drive home, Mark is completely silent, just staring at his phone. He is researching car accident injuries, how long the injuries which Jack had took to heal and how long after the crash did patients usually wake up. Every result that came up is the same as what the doctors had told him. He sighs and slips his phone into his pocket as Tyler pulls up outside Mark’s house.   
  
“You’d better call Signe and give her an update,” Tyler tells him. “Ethan called her last night. No doubt she’ll get the first plane she can and get over here.”   
  
“Shit, I forgot about her,” Mark mutters. “I guess I was just so freaked out about Jack.”

“So have we all,” Tyler says quietly as Mark gets out of the car. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as she can.”   
  
Mark nods and waves with a subtle frown on his face as Tyler reverses the car out of his driveway and heads back up the road once more. Slowly, Mark turns and heads into the house.   
  


\---

 

Jack has a pounding headache the next time he wakes up. It feels as though his skull is going to split in half and spill his brains all over the floor. He can't tell which way is up or down - everything is just so fuzzy. The light blinds him as he opens his eyes. Well, his right eye, anyway. His left one is being covered by something. A faint whimper escapes his lips as he shuts his eye again.

_ “Seán…? Seán can you hear me…?” _

“Ngh...w-whas… wasgoinon….?” Jack's words are horribly slurred and he feels saliva pool in his mouth as he speaks. He feels like a drooling infant. 

A gentle hand moves and wipes away the bead of saliva that had been gathering at the corner of his mouth. Jack blinks (or winks?) slowly a few times to get his eye to adjust. Something moves in the corner of his vision and he squints to try and focus on it. 

“Seán…?” Mark's voice is soft and gentle. “Can you hear me?”

“M-Mark…?” Jack squints a little more before his eye finally adjusts. “W-what happened…? Where am I…?” 

Jack sees Mark frown softly before he speaks. “How much can you remember about what happened…?”

Jack frowns in thought for a moment. “I … not much. I - I remember th-there being fire… a-and a truck…?”

Jack sees Mark nod slowly, but the persistent frown on Mark's face tells him he's missing something. “Anything else?” The half-Korean asks gently.

Jack thinks for another moment before shaking his head slowly. The headache flares up and he groans quietly. “Urgh … no … I don't remember anything else…”

“You were in a car accident,” Mark says softly. “You’ve been out for a few days.”

“Oh…” Jack blinks slowly and tries to sit up. He feels a sharp pain shoot through his whole body and lets out a quiet yelp, flopping back against the pillows with a groan. 

“Steady there,” Mark says as he adjusts the bed so that Jack is sitting a little more upright. “How do you feel?”   
  
“Like shit,” Jack mutters. “My head hurts and my legs feel like they’re on fire."

Mark frowns. “I’ll see if I can get the nurses to adjust your morphine,” he says, rising from his chair and going into the hall to find a nurse. He soon returns with someone, and in Jack’s state, he can barely tell what the person even looks like. They adjust the morphine for him and soon the pain is relieved, the nurse letting Mark know to come and get them if Jack needs anything else. 

Mark nods and sits down beside Jack again as the nurse leaves the room. “Does that feel better, Seán?”   
  
“A - a little,” Jack nods slowly and carefully, relaxing back into the pillows. He glances towards the end of the bed, taking note of his broken legs. “How long am I gonna be stuck here?”   
  
“They reckon about four to six weeks stuck in bed, then a little while longer until they think your legs are all fixed again. Then again, I’ve heard that they can sometimes take up to a year to heal properly,” Mark replies. At Jack’s rather disappointed expression, he adds, “But they said you should make a full recovery.”  
  
“At least there’s that,” Jack mutters, glancing away. “So I can’t get out of bed at all?”   
  
Mark shakes his head. “Nope, sorry bud. You’ve gotta stay put.”   
  
“Not even to go to the loo or have a shower?”   
  
“Nope,” Mark shakes his head again. “You’ll have nurses to help you take care of … all that.”   
  
“Great,” Jack blushes a little at the idea of having to go to the bathroom in front of a nurse. He just hopes that he will be appointed a male nurse when it comes to giving him a bed bath. 

Mark frowns softly. “It won’t be for forever, just until you can get out of bed and move around on your own, okay? Two months tops.”

Jack sighs and nods. “Alright, as long as it won’t be forever.”   
  
“You’re a tough cookie,” Mark says. “You’ll be just fine, I promise. Signe says she’s getting the next plane to LA to come and see you.”   
  
Jack perks up a little bit at that. “Signe’s coming?!”   
  
Mark nods, smiling a little as he sees the way Jack’s eyes light up at the mention of his girlfriend. “Yeah, she’s getting the next flight here. She should be here fairly soon.”   
  
Jack nods and lays back against the pillows, his head still spinning a little bit. He shuts his eyes for a moment and tries to will the vertigo away. He feels a hand run through his hair and opens his eyes to find Mark frowning at him.   
  
“Just you try and get a bit more sleep before Signe gets here, okay?” the American says softly. “You’re still pretty weak from the crash.”   
  
Jack nods again with a slight frown, wriggling as much as he is able to without hurting himself to get himself a bit more comfortable. Mark pulls the bedcovers up a little bit more to cover the Irishman’s shoulders. By the time Mark reaches the door of the room, Jack has shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep once more. 


	4. Cupcakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Signe lands in LA and immediately goes to visit Jack, while Ethan bakes some cupcakes

The next couple of days seem to drag by. Jack almost always has at least one visitor with him, and even when he doesn’t, he has the nurses checking up on him. He quickly grows irritated with the constant mollycoddling, having to resist the urge to snap at the nurses and tell them that he’s fine. He does find that he can’t get out of bed, however - partially due to the pain and partially due to the fact that he’s still hooked up to numerous wires, tubes, cables and monitors. He has to call a nurse every time he wants to sit up, or needs the bathroom, or wants something to eat or drink. It’s frustrating. 

Jack has not long finished being bathed when Signe shows up, her hair windswept and her cheeks flushed. It’s clear that she has run here from wherever she was dropped off. “Seán!”

Jack barely gets his girlfriend’s name out of his mouth before he’s enveloped by a faceful of brown hair. He raises an arm and wraps it around Signe’s shoulders, holding her as close as he can and ignoring the pain burning up inside him. He feels his girlfriend tremble under his arm and suddenly she pulls back, her eyes wild with raw emotion.    
  
He opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, only to receive a slap across the face that probably hurts more than Signe meant it to. “Ow!”   


Signe immediately follows the slap up with a kiss, smashing her mouth against Jack’s and kissing him almost desperately, trying to prove to herself that her boyfriend is fine, that he’s alive and that he is going to recover. Jack returns the kiss the best he can, easing a hand through his girlfriend’s wild hair.    
  
Signe eventually pulls away, rubbing the tears from her eyes. “I’ve been so worried about you…”

“Hey,” Jack motions for her to come close, frowning softly. He wipes her tears away and kisses her forehead. “I’m alright, I swear. Just a bit banged up.”   
  
“Seán both of your legs are broken and you had internal bleeding!” Signe protests with a huff. “That’s not ‘a bit’ banged up. That’s verging on ‘you could have died’!”   
  
Jack sighs quietly. “I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry…”   
  
“No, don’t apologize,” Signe shakes her head and sits on the side of the bed, passing her fingers through Jack’s green hair. “It wasn’t your fault. I just … I worry about you, so much.”   
  
“I know, I’m sorry for not calling. I should have done.”

“Seán you were unconscious for ages,” Signe points out. “You couldn’t have called.”

“I still should have sent you a text or called or something after I woke up.”   
  
“It’s okay, Seán, I promise,” Signe smiles and leans down to kiss Jack’s forehead. Jack blushes a little bit and smiles back, before pulling her down for another kiss. 

There’s a cough at the door a few minutes later and the pair break apart reluctantly, both with a faint blush on their cheeks. Signe brushes her hair out of her face and turns to look at their visitor, while Jack makes a half-hearted attempt to keep his overgrown fringe out of his face. 

Ethan stands at the door with a box in his hands, grinning at the couple. “Sorry for interrupting there.”   
  
“It’s fine,” the couple say in unison, Jack only blushing a little more. “Come on, come sit down.”   
  
Ethan grins and walks over, taking a seat in the empty chair beside Jack’s bed, setting the box down on Jack’s lap. Jack raises an eyebrow in confusion at the box before Ethan lifts the lid off. Inside are six homebaked cupcakes, decorated with different coloured icing. Half of them are decorated with green icing, with small white sugar stars scattered on top, and the other half are decorated with chocolate-coloured icing and small chocolate flakes. 

Jack’s eyes widen at the sight of the cakes. “Holy shit, Ethan. These look really good!”

Ethan grins. “I’m glad you think so. You wanna try one?”   
  
“Hell yeah!” Jack adjusts the bed so that he is sitting up a little bit more before grabbing one of the green cupcakes, pulling the paper back and taking a bite out of it. It has a faint almond flavour to it. It doesn’t take him long at all to finish the cupcake, reaching for another one after he finishes the first. 

Signe slaps his hand away and puts the lid back on the box. “Seán, you know you’re not meant to be eating anything that the hospital hasn’t given you, and since you’re stuck in bed, it’s not like you’ll be able to burn it all off.”   
  
Jack rolls his eyes and pouts. “But what if I want another one?”   
  
“You can have another one later. If you eat them all now, there’ll be none left.”   
  
“Actually, they don’t keep all that long without going stale and greasy,” Ethan points out. “So it’s probably best if they’re eaten up sooner rather than later.”   
  
“So I  _ can  _ have another one!” Jack grins and snatches a chocolate cupcake from the box, already sinking his teeth into it before his girlfriend can protest. Signe merely chuckles and grabs one for herself, Ethan taking one too. 

Together, the group finish off the cupcakes within half an hour, each taking a green one and a chocolate one. Signe giggles at the smudge of brown icing on Jack’s nose, wiping it off with her thumb. “You’re so messy.”   
  
“I’m lying down in bed, what do you expect?” Jack retorts, a playful smirk on his face. He turns his head to grin at his friend. “Thanks, bud. Those were really nice.”   
  
“I figured you could use a nice change from the gross hospital food.” Ethan chuckles as he takes the box again, setting it down on the floor by his feet. “So are you feeling much better?”   
  
“A little bit,” Jack shrugs slightly. “I still have to get the nurses to help me with the bathroom and getting washed and stuff, which is embarrassing, to say the least.”

Ethan pulls a face. “I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t want anyone poking around down there either, to be honest.”   
  
“It won’t be for that long,” Signe assures Jack, passing her fingers through his hair. “Just until you can get out of bed.”   
  
“Which the doctors have said is gonna look like two months at least,” Jack pouts, his lower lip jutting out. Signe chuckles and leans down to peck his lips softly. 

“Better than two years, right?”   


“I guess so,” Jack sighs, before yawning and stretching his arms out a little bit. Ethan leans down to pick the box up before getting to his feet.    
  
“I’ll leave you to get some sleep, alright bud?”   
  
Jack shrugs a little. “I’m not that tired, Ethan.”   
  
“You could carry groceries in the bags under your eyes.”   
  
“... point taken.”   
  
Ethan chuckles, patting Jack’s shoulder lightly. “Look, get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”   
  
“Alright. Thanks for coming by, and thanks for the cupcakes.”   
  
Ethan grins as he stands at the door. “No problem Seán,” he says, before leaving the room. 

Jack yawns again as Signe kisses his forehead. “You’d better get some more rest.”   
  
Jack rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah. You had as well. I’m gonna assume you haven’t slept since you got off the plane?”   
  
“I didn’t even sleep on the plane,” Signe admits quietly. “I couldn’t.”   
  
“Worrying about me?” Jack smirks, causing his girlfriend to roll her eyes.    
  
“Yes, and also because planes are noisy, bumpy and there was a kid kicking my seat the whole way over.”   
  
Jack chuckles. “Then go home and get some sleep. I’ll see you later.”   
  
“See you later.” Signe gives Jack a final, quick kiss before grabbing her bag and getting up off the bed. She smiles as she reaches the door, noticing that Jack has already closed his eyes and begun to snore. She flicks the light off and leaves him to get some rest. 


End file.
